The water is wide with the apprehension of deep breath. Loon ululates across the spaces in between. Water has gathered for gathering, chaste in cherish. We almost know what we do with our shit. The immense possible life still scores rock in its register. Vocabulary contains nearness. The loon cannot be forgotten, tremolo duet. Bespeak the elegance of this mapped portion, as slow and stern as rain. Boats assert in cold transit and, likewise, the last gasp. Sunrise and sunset both stretch on the water, making place a moment. Repeat the pasture of loon, undivided.
From the thing itself, beyond seasoned aptness. Life is like living but blurred by you were listening. Aspect ratio telemetry in myriad languages smooth as rocks approaches time to look. Words piece together things or things find words. Endlessness is a choice, written big in words as shiny as geese. Words simply take the time in radiation and radical point. Stein wrote the heft of nothing special, start there or whatever. You can slowly adjust the franchise, commodity's inner workings. Subglacial quips, subliminal washouts, frantic azure in the breeze of frosty Friday: these special sparking hallways slyly enjoin. Maybe you read too much into reading too much. Further on is where you’ll stay.
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